As I Lay Me Down To Sleep
by Fire Of The Stars
Summary: I listen for footsteps. For any sign of another soul inside this dark place. For any hope. But there is none. *complete*
1. Familiar

  


_Catch me as I fall_

_Say you're here and it's all over now_

_Speaking to the atmosphere_

_No one's here and I fall into myself_

  


I listen for footsteps. For any sign of another soul inside this dark place. 

For any hope.

But there is none. 

Only the thick, musty smell lingering in the air and making my head spin. The silence ringing in my ears. The soft, consistent trickling of tears down my cheeks.

Where are they? Now that I need them, where have they gone?

I need a familiar face. 

I look around again, searching for anything I might have missed before. 

I find nothing.

  


So I let go. 

  


*

It seems like hours, but finally I get a sign. From my high perch, I can hear a distant voice. 

  


"What is wrong with her?"

  


The words should comfort me. Someone is here.

But the voice is harsh and full of contempt. 

  


Another, cooler voice relies, "I have been informed that this one is a bit off."

  


The first speaker smirks. "Well, this should be interesting," he drawls.

  


"You are not to harm her. She is very important, is that understood?" 

  


"Yes, father," he answers in a bitter tone. "I understand perfectly."

  


*

  


I must fall asleep. When I awaken, I have left my perch. 

I blink a few times, hardly believing that I am still here. Somehow I had hopes that I would wake up in my own bed. Surrounded by the ones I love. 

Once again, questions tug at my mind. Where are they?

But all thoughts quickly flee as I find myself staring into a pair of cold, silver eyes.

  


I jerk upright, wrapping my arms around myself and my tattered clothing. 

  


"It's about time you wake up," the 'visitor' says with a sneer. 

  


As my eyes adjust to the dim candle light, I bite my lip against a gasp.

I have found a familiar face.

And it belongs to Draco Malfoy.


	2. Death Before Me

_Fallen angels at my feet_

_Whispered voices at my ear_

_Death before my eyes_

  


My father allows me to see the prisoners. 

I must be prepared, he says. I may see some disturbing things. 

He smirks as he says this. 

  


He leads me into a dark wing of the large building, only a torch to light our way. 

I pause every so often as we stride down the corridor and look in at the people who lay behind the barred doors. 

Most are crying hysterically, whispering incoherently under their sobs.

They are pathetic. 

  


Some lie crumpled on the cold stone floor, blood seeping from their open wounds. They take what I know will be their last breaths. 

Whoever invented the Cruciatus Curse was brilliant.

  


I know that it is something important when my father's confident strides come to a halt in front of the last cell. 

I follows the grey eyes, so much like my own, and finds myself looking at a girl.

Her deep red hair is tangled and wild about her face. Pale, almost translucent skin. Her tattered clothing is stained with blood. 

A deep looking cut runs the length of her left cheek, and a smaller one lies just below her hair line, but that is the extent of her wounds. 

Her dark eyes are wide and unfocused, with a glazed appearance, and he can tell she has been crying.

  


"What is wrong with her?" I ask, casting a cold glance at her blank face.

  


"I have been informed that this one is a bit . . . off," my father replies. 

  


I smirk as thoughts of what I could do to this tiny, fragile looking girl run through my head. "Well, this should be interesting."

  


He turns to me then, his eyes flashing like polished steel. ""You are not to harm her. She is very important, is that understood?" 

He says this in a tone that tells of things yet to come. I hate it when he speaks like this. I am never allowed to know the secrets buried in the smooth, icy layers of his words.

I cross my arms over my chest, assuming a rigid stance, and look him straight in the eye. "Yes, father," I say, my tone mocking, "I understand perfectly."

  


He gives me permission to stay behind as he goes to a 'business meeting'. I watch him walk away, his black cloak billowing behind him. Then it turn to face the girl.

I am interested in her. Why is she so important? What about her allowed her to get away from the Battle with only a few scratches? Why did no one kill her? Why was this scrawny, pathetic, clearly insane girl not among the thousands of bodies that littered the ground that night?

  


I suppose I will have to ask her.

But now her eyes are drifting closed. On the floor, she curls into a ball, her knees pulled close to her body. 

I sigh in frustration. I do not like waiting. 

  


The minutes tick away, bleeding into hours. I swear to myself that if she is not awake soon, I am going to leave. 

As I think this, she stirs. Her eyes flutter open and travel over the cell. She looks as though she may burst into tears at any moment.

  


"It's about time you woke up," I say.

  


She looks up at me, and I notice that her eyes are clear and aware now. Shock registers on her face. She seems to know me. 

She narrows her eyes in anger and suspicion.

  


"What are you doing here? What have you done with my family, with Harry?" Her voice cracks and she angrily swipes at her eyes.

  


As she says "Harry", a smirk plays across his face. 

  


"Weasley," he mutters, low enough to keep her from hearing. 

  


"Well," he begins, leaning back and stretching his hands behind his head, "I will answer your questions if you answer mine."

  


She glares at him, her brown eyes blazing. _There's that Weasley temper. _

  


"Why should I tell you anything, Malfoy?" She says his last name as if it is a curse, her words practically dripping with fury.

  


He rises to his feet in one graceful movement. "Have it your way then." He leans forward, his face pressed to the bars, his gray eyes locked onto hers. "But I _will_ be back. And I _will_ find out what I want to know. One way or another. I get what I want, Weasley."

  


She matches his stare with equal intensity. He didn't think that Gryffindors could be this cold. 

  


"Good night," he says with a sneer, turning to walk away. "Pleasant dreams."

  
  



	3. Ignition

_Close your eyes to disappear_

_You pray your dreams will leave you here_

_Still you wake to know the truth_

_No one's there_

  


I am so thrown by a human presence– by_ Malfoy's_ presence– that for a moment I just stare.

Finally, feeling his calculating gaze on me, I regain my senses.

  


"What are you doing here?" I ask. "What have you done with my family, with Harry?" 

  


My voice is weak and trembling, breaking as I speak Harry's name.

Immediately I know I have made a mistake. The classic Malfoy smirk twists across his features.

  


He stretches, his gray eyes gleaming."Well, I will answer your questions if you answer mine." 

  


He says this as if he is discussing the weather.

  


I wonder what questions he could possibly have for me. I almost agree, eager as I am to find out the whereabouts of my family. 

  


But then a strange sensation sweeps through me. I am suddenly infused with fire. I can almost see it burning, feel its heat in my palm. And with it comes pure, raw fury.

  


I find myself hardening from the inside. 

  


"Why should I tell you anything, _Malfoy_?" 

  


My tone is a far cry from the tear choked words spoken only a moment before. Now my voice seems to be magnified and as sharp as the blade of a sword. 

  


He rises to his feet in one fluid motion and advances on me. "Have it your way then," he says, leaning his face close to the bars that hold me in this retched cell. "But I _will _be back. And I _will_ find out what I want to know. One way or another. I get what I want, Weasley. "

  


His eyes are looking into my own, and I match his arctic stare. 

I burn, my rage blazing with the same intensity as the ice in his words.

  


Finally he breaks away, turning to leave. 

  


"Good night," he says over his shoulder. "Pleasant dreams."

  


As the distance between us grows, the fire in me flickers. I can feel its flames waver, the heat diminishing. 

  


When finally it dies out completely, I collapse to the floor, my legs suddenly unable to support my small frame. 

My skin is hot to the touch, enough to blister anyone who dare touch it. 

Like the smoldering ashes left after a bonfire. 

  


Then, it is like dam breaking. Torrents of tears escape my eyes, sobs racking my body. 

I cry myself to sleep.

  


*

  


Grass, no longer green. Stained– drenched– with the blood of thousands.

Bodies, battered and broken, littering the field. 

I am walking through this blood bath, stepping gingerly over countless corpses. My stomach turns. I recognize too many of these faces.

I do not know why I am here, but I wish to escape it.

I trip and stumble, landing face down on the wet and sticky ground. I find myself staring into a pare of blank, green eyes.

Bile rises in my throat and I scramble to my feet. I am trembling. I stand, my hand pressed over my mouth, unable to tear my eyes away from the lifeless form in front of me. 

Suddenly the sun begins to sink. The sky becomes a vibrant shade of red. The deep crimson of the blood that covers the ground and the distorted face before me.

My hand drops to my side, my fists clenching.

And I scream. 

  



	4. Darkness and Chocolate

_It seems like everyday's the same_

_And I'm left to discover on my own_

_It seems like everything is gray _

_And there's no color to behold_

  


The next day, as promised, I return to her cell.

She is seated Indian style on the floor._ Does she ever get up from there?_

I crouch down to meet her eyes, only to discover that they are vacant.

  


"Damn it, Weasley! Can't you stay on earth like the rest of us?" 

  


I begin to walk away, a scowl on my face.

  


"Tut, tut, such language."

  


I freeze in my tracks as the distinctly female voice cuts through the air. _Weasley? No, she doesn't sound like that. But who else could it be? _

  


I turn and stride back to the cell door. Sure enough, she is staring back at me with a twisted smile on her face. It really does not fit her.__

I open my mouth to tell her so, and she stops me beforeI begin.

  


"And how would you know what fits me and what doesn't, Mister Malfoy?_"_

  


My eyes widen, then narrow. Her eyes are no longer brown, but as red as her hair, as the blood smeared across her cheek.

  


_Bloody hell! What is going on?_

  


She arches one eyebrow.

  


_Gods! Can you read my mind?_

  


She nods, her wicked smile broadening.

  


_I can stop you, you know._

  


Another nod.

  


I close my eyes and block off my thoughts.

  


She stands and saunters forward, her hips swaying in a way I definitely do not recall from school. She wraps her long fingers around the bars and fixes her vermillion eyes on mine.

  


"You're no fun at all," she says, pressing her cherry colored lips into a pout. So much red.

  


"I can be fun when I want to be," I reply.

  


Her blood red eyes sparkle and she smiles evilly. 

  


Before I know what is happening, I am opening the door, using the key I stole from my father's night stand. 

I am inside with her, and she is leaning against the wall with her lips curved into that deliciously malicious smile.__

I stride over to her, placing my arms on either side of her to hold her in place. I push myself against her. It is as if a magnetic force pulls me to her. 

She looks up at me through thick lashes and I feel something inside of me ignite. 

My lips crash down to hers, and I am kissing her.

Barely aware of the weight of her arms around my neck, of her nails digging into my skin through my robes. __

I can practically taste her power_. _

I explore every inch of her mouth, my hands moving over her body. 

She tastes of darkness and chocolate and a faint trace of blood. 

  


And then it is over. She pulls away and laughs. 

  


"You're right. That was fun," she says.

  


She stands before me, her eyes shining with amusement, and I know at once that it was a trick.

  


"Weasley, if you ever do that again, I swear I will have you tortured and murdered before you can say Quidditch!"

  


"Draco, dear, you are mistaken. I did not do anything wrong. This is what you wanted and we both know it. Did it feel good? To feel my power coursing through you? Even for an instant? Power. That's what Slytherins are all about. You scheme and plot to make that power yours. Yet not many of you have it. And--"

  


"Shut up," I hiss. "I don't want to hear your theories on why I am the way that I am. And yes, if you must know, it _did _feel good. All that darkness. Weasley, you must be pretty screwed up."

  


She shrugs. "I suppose I am."

  


There is silence for a few heartbeats. 

  


"I am bored now," she says, yawning to emphasize her point.

  


"Who the hell cares, Weasley?"

  


"Well, I'm just saying that you might want to leave before I lose my temper."

  


"Like I'm scared of you."

  


"Perhaps you should be."

  


I think of the strength she had over me only minutes before. Of how her eyes are the color of the sky that night.

  


And I want to be away from her. 

  


So without another word, I walk away.

  


It is not until much later that I realize I never got the chance to ask her anything.__

  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Denied

_Tension is building inside_

_Steadily_

_Heavy thoughts forcing their way_

_Out of me_

It feels late when I finally awaken. 

My head is aching, swimming with jumbled thoughts. Visions from my nightmares float into my consciousness. 

I shudder and wrap my arms around myself. I close my eyes, waiting for my body to feel light. To know that I will soon be above it all. 

But I am held to this place as surely as the stone floor. 

  


A flash of red blinks through the darkness. My eyes shoot open. It is gone. 

I sigh and rest my head against the cool stone wall. Why am I not able to fly today? What is it that binds me?

As if in response, the image of a blood red sky fills my head.

  


What does that have to do with me? 

It was only a dream. A very vivid dream. 

A vivid nightmare.

But nothing more. 

  


I am crying, silently begging the sky to allow me entrance. 

I do not wish to be here. What possible reason could there be for my presence in a place such as this?

A scream rings out from one of the neighboring cells. It has a feminine and child like quality. It makes my stomach turn to think of a child trapped here. 

  


Please, I cry out. Please let me leave. If only for a short while. 

No answer. 

I have been abandoned.

  


*

I trail my fingers over the floor, tracing patterns along the stone surface.

My skin is a shock of white against the darkness. 

I am so lonely here.

  


*

My heart leaps as I feel hands run over my arms.

  


_Do not cry, I am here._

  


The voice is deep and rich, as soft as the wind's whisper.

I close my eyes and I see a familiar pair of glittering eyes.

  


_Tom._

  


_Yes. Did you think I had forgotten you?_

  


_But how? Why? They said you were evil, Tom._

  


Laughter. _I am, my dear. As evil as they come. And so are you._

  


_No. You are wrong._

  


_Why do you think I chose you? Do you really think I would let someone innocent hold my spirit within them, tainting my beautiful darkness? No. But you did not realize who you truly are. Now your soul has been unleashed._

  


I feel the fire igniting within me once more. Who is he to tell me who I am? I know who I am, and I am not like him.

My blood is now liquid fire. 

I am screaming, roaring in rage. All I see is the sky, burning crimson.

  


I feel his presence flee. The chill in the air is now gone. All is fire.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. So Much Red

_Welcome to my world, she said_

_Do you feel alive, she said_

_It's all a bad dream spinning in your lonely head_

  


She looks up at me as I stand before her. Her brown eyes are clouded.

I scowl at her.

  


"Don't even think of pulling another trick like yesterday," I snarl. 

  


She frowns. "What are you on about?"

  


"Don't toy with me Weasley."

  


"Malfoy, could you stop being yourself for a moment and listen? I have no idea what you are talking about."

  


I take in her angry expression, the traces of tears on her cheeks, her red hair in disarray around her face, and I want her. 

Just as I wanted her for her power before, now I want her for her innocence. 

How can one person hold so much good and evil? 

I long to twist her, break her. 

  


I tighten my grip around the key that lays in my palm. 

  


I watch her for a few moments, trying to decide whether to give in to the hated longing that is coursing through me. 

My hands make the decision for me. 

  


I slip inside, closing the door behind me. Her eyes widen in shock and anger.

  


"What the–"

  


I cut her off, kissing her hard enough to bruise her. Her tiny fists are beating against my chest, even though her lips are responding to mine. 

Her touch leaves trails of fire over my skin. 

When I have had enough, I shove her away roughly, sending her tumbling to the floor. 

  


She glares up at me, her eyes flashing red. 

Pain rips through me. It is worse than anything I have ever experienced. Worse even than the Cruciatus Curse. 

But I do not scream. I am a Malfoy.

  


Then it is over, and I am left on my knees. Blood drips from my nose and lips.

  


I stagger to my feet and look at her.

Her eyes flash red once more before rolling back in her head.__

  
  



	7. Bitter

_I've become so numb_

_I can't feel you there_

_I've become so tired_

_So much more aware_

  


I am tired suddenly.

I sink to my knees, watching my fingers sweep ghostly trails over the floor.

Footsteps approach. I look up at him.

He scowls at me.

  


"Don't even think of pulling another trick like yesterday," he says.

  


What trick?

  


"What are you on about?" I ask, rising to my feet.

  


His silver eyes narrow. "Don't toy with me, Weasley."

  


"Malfoy, could you stop being yourself for a moment and listen ? I have no idea what you're talking about."

  


He continues to glare at me. After a moment, however, his eyes widen. 

  


Before I know it, he is inside with me.

My head is spinning. What is he doing?

I open my mouth to ask him and his lips meet mine.

His kiss is rough, and I want to scream. 

I pound my fists against his chest, but my traitorous lips are accepting of the contact. They open to allow his tongue passage. 

Angry tears sting my eyes. What does he want with me?

  


After what seems like an eternity, he pulls away, shoving me backward.

I fall to the floor.

  


A flash of red. 

I feel my blood pounding in my veins.

Raw power, cupped in my hands. White hot fire.

  
  


I glare at him, and the condescending smirk falls from his face.

I can tell from his expression that he is in great pain.

And I enjoy it.

Let him suffer, let him burn.

He sinks to his knees, staggering under the weight of my power.

Still, stubborn git that he is, he refuses to scream.

  


I grow bored. It is no fun when they do not fight.

I lift the magic from him, slowly. Alleviating the pain bit by bit.

I shall not kill him. Yet.

  


He stumbles to his feet, still considerably weak.

He looks at me with open hatred in his eyes. It is a rare occasion, indeed, to see a Malfoy unguarded.

  


Suddenly I feel my energy draining.

Another flash of red.

And then all fades to black. 

  


*

  


I wake.

He is still here.

  


"Merlin, Weasley. What the hell is wrong with you?"

  


I bring a hand to my throbbing head.

  


"I– I do not know."

  


He looks down at his hands. "They want you, you know."

  


"Wh-who?" It seems all I can manage is stuttering.

  


Harsh, bitter laughter. "You'll know soon enough."

  


Silence. 

  


"Weasley, as fun as this has been, I must be going now," Malfoy says bitterly. He stands and in an instant he is on the other side of the door. He begins to walk away.

  


I snap my head up, ignoring the sharp pain the action brings. "Wait!" 

  


He stops but does not look back. 

  


"Where is Harry?" For some reason, I do not ask about my family. The ghastly image of blank green eyes will not fade from my mind.

  


"Potter is dead," he says casually. "Good night."

  



	8. Good Night, Indeed

_I can't feel_

_The way I did before_

_Don't turn your back on me_

_I won't be ignored_

  


I watch as she begins to fall.

I find myself jumping forward to catch her before her skull cracks against the concrete. I lay her gently on the floor, as she seems to like being there. 

_What the hell just happened?_

I wipe blood from my face with the back of my hand and stare at her unconscious figure.

I knew Weasleys had quite a temper, but _that_ . . .

Even Voldemort couldn't have done something like that. She doesn't even have her wand. 

It was pure magic, and very powerful magic at that.

Damn, I sound like that Mud-Blood Granger. I snicker to myself. Hers was a fun death to watch.

Especially with her pathetic little boyfriend looking on, totally powerless.

I look back at Ginny. _Where did I learn her name?_

She would have done something. She would have tried to kill all of us. And, from what I have just seen, she would have succeeded.

_She really is rather beautiful. Her face makes her look rather like an elf. _

_It fits her. _

Elves, by legend, are all incredibly, inhumanly beautiful. And amazingly powerful.__

There had been many attempts to convince the elves to ally themselves with Voldemort, but all failed.

I watch her, trying to decipher the reasoning behind my incessant yearning.

Is it because of her beauty? 

Is it because of her power?

  


She is certainly unique. If I can convince her to join Voldemort when he asks, things would be perfect. He would have one of the most powerful witches to ever exist, and I would have one of the most beautiful.

  


I am shaken out of my reverie when she awakens.

  


She looks up at me, as if she is amazed that I am still here. I sneer at her.

  


"Merlin, Weasley. What the hell is wrong with you?"

  


She begins to sit up, placing a hand on her head. "I– I do not know," she answers weakly.

  


"They want you, you know," I say, suddenly finding myself greatly interested in my nails. I want to scare her, but I feel as though she knows of my earlier thoughts and cannot bring my eyes to meet hers.

  


"Wh-who?" 

  


She honestly does not know. Who does she think is keeping her prisoner?

I laugh, a hollow sound. Not something I do often. Snickering, yes. Laughing, no.

  


"You'll know soon enough."

  


My answer is cryptic, something I myself hate. But though I want it to, the truth will not escape my lips. 

  


There is silence for a few moments. I look over at her to find her staring at the floor. 

  


"Weasley, as fun as this has been, I must be going now," I say, rising to my feet. I walk out of the door, locking it behind me.

  


I take a few steps down the corridor before her voice stops me.

  


"Wait!" 

  


Her voice is desperate. I am angry at her for letting herself sound this pathetic. I pause.

  


"Where is Harry?" The question is more of a whimper.

Of course she would ask about Potter. _This should be fun._

  


Without looking back at her, I reply," Potter is dead. Good night."

  


I walk away, still somewhat dizzy from the force of her magic. The pain filled screams of the other prisoners increase the dull throbbing in my head.

  


Good night, indeed.

  
  
  
  
  



	9. Ashes

_I'll paint it on the walls_

_Cause I'm the one at fault_

_I'll never fight again_

_And this is how it ends_

  


I pull my knees closer to my body.

Harry is dead.

Dead.

I shake my head in disbelief for what must be the millionth time.

No.

He can't be.

Can't.

No.

  


I close my eyes and am nearly floored by gut wrenching images. 

Blank green eyes staring up at me from a broken and bloodied face.

Blood drenched grass.

Thousand of bodies.

Horrible screams piercing the cool night air.

The crimson sky.

So much red. So much blood.

  


Harry is dead. And the world as I know it has been destroyed.

Death litters the streets. 

There is no silence. Only terrified cries in the night.

No fairy tale ending. 

  


I know who it is that wants me.

He thinks he knows who I am. That is why Tom returned to me.

Malfoy wants me as well. 

He tries to take me over with harsh, demanding kisses.

  


I am sick of people trying to take me over.

Tricking me.

Destroying everything that I love.

  


A flash of red.

Fire. Beautiful flames infusing me with incredible strength.

I am screaming. The walls and floor begin to shake.

I realize that I am on my feet, and I can feel the earth trembling under the soles of my old and worn shoes. 

Bits of stone are falling around me. 

I focus my eyes on the barred door and hurl the let the crackling energy flow from my fingers.

It falls away, smoke rising from the place where it had been.

Without a second thought, I step into the dark and empty corridor.

My vision is flooded with red.

All is fire. 

Ashes, ashes.

They will all fall down.

  
  
  



	10. And She Burns

_Today is on fire_

_The sky is beating above me_

_And I am blistered_

  


I sense her before I see her. 

The air is practically vibrating with the raw power that I have only ever felt from her. 

  


Of course, no one else notices the sharp change in the atmosphere. No. They are too worried about their sinister plans for that power. They want to harness it, as I myself attempted less than an hour ago.

But it will not work. 

  


I would tell them that, but they wouldn't listen. I am not yet one of them. And in this circle, my father's influence does nothing for me. 

So, even as the ground begins to tremble beneath my well polished shoes, I say nothing. 

  


I am not an idiot. I know very well that it is her doing. Soon they will know it, too. I feel no sense of loyalty toward Voldemort, however much I agree with his beliefs. He thinks himself far more powerful than he actually is. 

  


"Find her," Voldemort hisses at the Death Eater kneeling at his feet. "Or I shall kill you."

  


"That won't be necessary."

  


She speaks in a flat, empty voice, stepping out from her place in the shadows.

Her hair has turned a dark, rich crimson. It reminds me of the blood that pooled on the ground that night. 

Skin as pale as moonlight, nearly translucent.

Carmine lips set in a straight line. 

Scarlet eyes blazing, yet cold and hollow. Emotionless. 

Fixed upon Voldemort.

  


Voldemort smiles. It is truly a horrible sight. 

  


"Well, if it isn't the talented Miss Weasley. You gave us quite a fright," he says in his chilling voice.

  


She crosses her arms over her chest, raises one eyebrow. "Did I? How?" She sounds bored, as if she is discussing the weather. 

  


"Your cell was empty. We feared you had escaped," comes the answer of the still-kneeling Death Eater.

  


She laughs then, an echoing, dead sound. "And if I had? What then? Would you have killed some more of these disgusting men?" she asks, gesturing to the crowd of black-cloaked Death Eaters. "Tell me, what do you want with me, Tom? I grow weary of your games."

"Virginia, Virginia. Not one to waste time, are we? Then I shall tell you. I wish for you to join me. Help me take over, and you shall rule by my side."

"You have promised me this before, Tom. You promised me many things. It is your nature to lie. "

"Your power is immeasurable. You could do great things with that power. We could do great things."

The ground gives a slight tremble beneath my well polished shoes. Her eyes are flashing dangerously. She steps forward. 

"You seek my power, yet you know naught of it. Perhaps I should teach you a lesson."

Before Voldemort can even flinch, the magic passes through the air. 

I am brought to my knees by the most excruciating pain I have ever known. 

My blood is burning, boiling. Thousands of white hot knives are slicing into me. I feel as though I am being ripped apart from inside out.

The room is up in flames, smoke stinging my eyes. 

Just seconds before all goes black, a horrible, earth shattering roar rings through the air. 


	11. That Night

Chapter 11: That Night

  


_I'm a bad one_

_I'm a good one_

_I'm a sick one_

_With a smile_

  


Magic hangs in the air, and my heightened sensesrecognize its sharp, metallic scent. It is faint, as magic performed with a wand is almost pathetically weak. 

Not like the blistering energy flowing with delicious intensity through my fingers, which clouds the air even in its smallest quantities. __

I am cloaked in shadow, waiting for the right moment to reveal myself. 

  


Draco and his father stand side by side in front of the so-called Dark Lord. Another Death Eater is on his knees, presumably begging for mercy. 

Why do they all fear him so? He may look different, more grotesque, but he is still Tom Riddle. A bitter teenage boy who couldn't deal with what he was. 

Pathetic, really, that they bow to him as though he is a god. 

  


"Find her," Voldemort hisses, and I know he is talking about me. "Or I shall kill you."

  


This is it, this is my cue. I step out from my curtain of darkness. "That won't be necessary," I state.

  


Draco immediately glances over, his eyes hungrily taking in my appearance. The others quickly follow suit. 

  


A smile twists across Tom's face. "Well, if it isn't the talented Miss Weasley. You gave us quite a fright." 

  


I cock an eyebrow. "Did I? How?"

  


I am no idiot, I know what had them worried. My cell was decimated. They thought their little prize had managed to get free. 

  


For the first time, the kneeling Death Eater speaks. "Your cell was empty. We feared you had escaped." 

  


I laugh coldly. "And if I had? What then? Would you have killed some more of these disgusting men?" My gaze flickers over the crowd of black clad figures, the many pairs of eyes watching my every move, ready to attack. As if they could. "Tell me, what do you want with me, Tom? I grow weary of your games."

  


His eyes gleam. Finally, he is ready to tell me what he wants. I hope he doesn't babble on too long. I am ready to kill him. 

  


"Virginia, Virginia. Not one to waste time, are we? Then I shall tell you. I wish for you to join me. Help me take over, and you shall rule by my side."

  


I recall all the promises he made me, so long ago. When I was young, and sickeningly naive. 

  


"You have promised me this before, Tom. You promised me many things. It is your nature to lie. "

  


His horrible smile widens. "Your power is immeasurable. You could do great things with that power. We could do great things."

  


Great things . . . My mind flashes with images of blood stained grass. The blank, emerald eyes. Harry's eyes. I know that now. I was there. I saw his broken and bloodied body. The fire roars within me, burning with the heat of a thousand suns. The earth gives a terrified shudder. 

  


"You seek my power, yet you know naught of it. Perhaps I should teach you a lesson."

  


Before any of these pathetic creatures can blink, I allow the buzzing magic to escape my fingers,

The room is burning, pieces of rubble falling from the ceiling. I see Draco fall to his knees and smile before turning my attention to Tom.

The horrible smile is gone from his face, replaced with panic. Flames are licking at his skin and he is melting like wax. 

A scream of rage escapes my lips. And then I fall.

  


*

  


_Thunder rumbles, and a streak of lightening flashes through the darkened sky._

  


_"Please don't go, not tonight," she pleads. _

  


_He tucks a strays strand of hair behind her ears. "Gin, I have to."_

  


_She leans into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her head in his chest. "You can't. Something is going to happen."_

  


_He pulls back and looks her in the eyes. "What is it?"_

  


_She glances down. "I don't know. But something is."_

  


_He sighs. "Whatever it is, I have to face it. But I have to go."_

  


_She meets his eyes once more. "I know," she whispers. And she does. This is his destiny. She only wishes that it were different. _

  


_He lays a gentle kiss on her forehead and mumbles something into her skin. She thinks she hears him say that he loves her, but she can't be sure. He gazes into her eyes one more time. _

  


_"Goodbye, Ginny."_

_*_

  


_The grass is slick beneath her feet, and the sight of so much blood makes her slightly sick. She tries not to look at the scattered corpses, or the distorted faces of those who are fighting death. She has to find him. Suddenly she trips and falls over a stray object. Looking down, she feels her stomach flip and vomit rise. Blank green eyes. _

  


_Harry._

  


_Dried blood is caked beneath his broken nose, trailing down his chin and over the front of his robes. More dark liquid is pooling around his head, and seeping from a gash along his ribs. His glasses are shattered, the round black flames laying beside him. _

  


_She staggers to her feet and stands with one hand clamped over her mouth. She knew. She knew. Something was going to happen. And now, here she is, standing in a field scattered with the bodies of so many of her friends. She wonders if any of her family is still alive. Her father and brothers had all come here tonight. _

  


_This is all Tom's fault. Why does he destroy everything? _

  


_A voice in the back of her head tells her that she must get revenge. The voice is unfamiliar, but it has a strong, resounding quality to it. Suddenly, she is infused with new strength._

  


_ Around her, the sky turns to a vivid, blood red. _

  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Lights Out

Chapter 12: Lights Out

  


_Close your eyes, you don't got no one else to see_

_Realize exactly what you'll never be_

_This time, the curtain's landing on you_

_Someday I'm gonna see this come true_

  


I wake up slowly, forcing my eyes open. The room is demolished, ashes and dying flames everywhere. There is a stream of red in my vision. Bringing my hand to my head, I find that it is blood, coming from a rather large gash just under my hairline. How the hell did that happen? I attempt to stand up, but immediately sink back down, clenching my eyes shut once more. Star bursts are going off behind my eyelids. Hot white flashes of pain are coursing through my entire body. 

  


When finally I open my eyes, I take a moment to look around the room. Death Eaters lie on the floor in charred, bloody heaps. My father is crumpled beside Voldemort's dais, his white blond hair blackened and his robe tangled around him. I know immediately that he is dead, and a knot forms in my stomach. I tear my gaze away with a sick feeling, searching for the girl. 

  


I see her, unconscious (perhaps dead), only a few yards away from me. Gathering all of my strength, I rise on shaky legs and stumble over, collapsing next to her. My legs are coursing with fire, the throbbing in my head increasing. I look down at her. Her hair retains the blood red coloring, and her crimson lips seem even deeper red against her now waxy skin. The slow rise and fall of her chest tells me that she still lives, which is only slightly amazing. The amount of raw magic that she used should have killed her. It would have incinerated a normal witch. But from what I have seen of her, she is far from ordinary. 

  


Not knowing exactly why, I lay one arm over her stomach. Her skin is hot to the touch, almost blistering, and I pull away from her immediately. In that same instant, her eyes fly open. 

  


I barely see the scarlet gleam beneath her lashes before she is on her feet. She doesn't even seem dizzy, having just awoken from a fainting spell. 

  


"You're still breathing," she says. 

  


I nod. 

  


"Not for long," she adds, looking pointedly at my chest, where it feels as though a hand is squeezing my heart.

  


Through clenched teeth, I ask, "Why do you want to kill me?"

  


"It's not just you, Draco. It's all of your kind."

  


"My kind?" I sneer.

  


She gestures at the dead bodies around us, at my father.

  


"You destroyed me. I destroyed you," she states simply.

  


"What? How the hell did we destroy you?"

  


"Tom started it. The work of unraveling me."

  


"Tom?"

  


She jerked her finger at a pile of ashes where Voldemort had been. "Your former master. He possessed me. I was a weak little girl, and I wanted someone who understood me. No one was better than Tom."

  


I wanted to ask her what I had to do with her pathetic social life, but I kept my mouth shut. Partially because my throat felt like sandpaper, and partially because her eyes were still glowing like hot coals.

  


"Then there was Harry. I loved him more than anything. But he was a hero, and he had a destiny. Tom killed him. As well as my father and three of my brothers. I went to the battle that night, intending to help Harry. And I tripped over his dead body."

  


I had killed Ron. Tortured him by making him watch his girlfriend die, until he begged to join her. Human emotion is a more powerful tool than any wand. My father had boasted about Arthur Weasley's death, snickering as he told me how the fool had refused to scream. And every one of us had turned to watch the hero fall. It was our highest moment.

  


"I sought revenge, and I was given the power to get it."

  


"It will kill you. You're not strong enough to handle it."

  


She smirks. That little bitch stole my smirk. "I highly doubt that. If it does, that is a price I am more than willing to pay."

  


She raises her hand, her eyes narrowing. The air ripples, and I close my eyes in anticipation. Let her kill me. At least I got to see Potter fail at something before I died.

  


That is my last thought before the life drains out of me. 

Before my eyes roll back in my head and my breathing ceases.

Before a little girl with fire red hair slumps to the ground. 

Before the red fades to black, and there is no more. 

  


_~*fin*~_


End file.
